|Walking to the front door, the porch light shined upon.|
There's no remembrance of turning it on.
The deadbolt left unlocked, a deterrent to prevent.
Leaving it for mother, an every day event.
The front room spoke silence. A light appeared there, too;
Where the TV often blasts to the next room.
Looking out the window, ground covered in white,
Twelve inches predicted; a winter storm in flight.
No matter what type of storm's rage, it seems,
Everyone is vanished; upon God to glean.
A look to the watch, a rough road comes to mind;
Time to be home, that family of mine.
The telephone rings. A friend knows when to call.
Passing the time makes waiting shorter for all.
Though it wasn't as special as time with the LORD,
There's hope for tomorrow; that friends will love more.
Wondering how many times promises retain as yours,
Again, the family comes walking through the door.
by Joyce C. Lock